Page 200 from a novel you have not read

own particular way.

“Sack off the heebs and spend a little. The places you could go with a good haircut.”

“Don’t bring religion in to this.”

Across the yard, the girls were double-teaming the jump rope; it was an eye, blinking. At the bench next to us, an old boy opened up a Scrabble board and laid it on top of the checkerboard stone. He brought out two racks and sat down to wait.

Marcus scratched his forehead with one finger.

“You’ve stopped,” Pete said.

“I’m waiting for you to change your mind.”

The old guy was rattling the cloth sack, shaking up the letters.

“What will we do when we get there?” Pete asked.

Marcus showed his teeth. “Go snorkelling.”

“What else?”

“Learn a language.”

Marcus had just discovered being dead-pan and he couldn’t get past it.

“Okay,” Pete said. “I’m going to just ask you the question.”

“Fine. I’ve got my answer prepared.”

“Are you going to force me in to a brothel?”

Marcus was nibbling something small, a nail maybe, or a bit of food that had just resurfaced. “That’s old news,” he said.

The old man’s friend arrived. A black guy, about Pete’s age, with big arms and intricate facial hair. They said hello to each other and shook hands.

“So why are we going? Honestly,” Pete said.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“But.”

“But if you’re going to be a dick about it.”

“I am going to be a dick about it.”

“Remember you told me about that book you read, where the two guys go on a road trip, and one of them is all sexually heroic, and the other one is thoughtful, and how they reminded you of us.”

“I’m too old for road trips. This is too late on for road trips. I am already the man I hoped I would not turn in to.”

Marcus’s jaw muscles stiffened. “Okay,” he said. “That’s cool.”

Pete looked over at the Scrabble board. They had the word METHODS vertically on to the centre square.

“I don’t believe in self-improvement, Marcus. You know that.”

“I know you don’t buddy.”

There was the tune from an ice cream van started and the girls stopped skipping.